


Mr. Jefferson, Welcome Home!

by motivationalhedonism



Series: World's No. 1 Dad 'Verse [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Thomas Jefferson, Established Relationship, Implied Switching, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Somnophilia, Tired Sex, Top Alexander Hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 00:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29234295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/motivationalhedonism/pseuds/motivationalhedonism
Summary: Thomas just got back to New York after staying in France for nearly two weeks.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson
Series: World's No. 1 Dad 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146641
Comments: 9
Kudos: 57





	Mr. Jefferson, Welcome Home!

Thomas woke up with a gasp at the feeling of something slick and blunt  _ and thick  _ sliding into him _. _

Still sleep-addled and confused, he rolled his hips back on instinct, taking more of the length in and moaning hoarsely at the feeling. The fit was awkward — him being on his side with his legs pressed together, which he tried to remedy by folding one leg and raising the other to hook over the other man's... wait, what?

"...wha—? Alex?"

"Thomas," Alexander whispered from behind him, one hand coming around to help Thomas angle his leg better. "Sorry for waking you up, love." A kiss behind his ear. Another roll of the other's hips. "I missed you so much, I just had to have my fill."

Oh. Right.

Thomas just got back to New York after staying in France for nearly two weeks.

If anyone had told Thomas eight years ago that he'd one day be attending an architect's gala (however geeky that may sound) in France, with renowned French architects, as a resource speaker no less... well, he didn't know how he would've responded. But with a 6-year-old who cried for her mommy every night and a newborn who'd never get to know what her mommy was like, the world just seemed too bleak to imagine anything like that happening.

There was also the fact that such conventions usually invited those specializing in commercial architecture: bigger buildings, more urban designs. Meanwhile Thomas' specialty was residentials — small-to-medium suburban homes taking heavy influence from the French Provincial style.

_ "This couple, I'm really glad they let me take full creative liberty! I went all out with this one: see, the finishes are mostly the same with the surrounding houses, but the steep hip roof and bonneted dormer windows make for distinguishing characteristics, and it looks a lot less like—" _

_ "Thoma', I love you, but I know these roofs and windows from art history class. Please take me to Taco Bell." _

He would shamelessly rave about his own designs whenever Lafayette came to visit from France. And, while the Frenchman wasn't as interested in those designs as Thomas was, he never missed the opportunity to brag about "his architect friend from America". It paid off eventually, as one of Lafayette's more influential friends of a similar career as Thomas caught sight of his work and asked to meet him.

It was that particular meeting that landed him the offer to be a resource speaker.

_ "And, remember, don't let Polly borrow your phone for anything!" _

_ "Get the fuck out, Jefferson. I know how to take care of some brats." _

_ "Merci, mon ange." _

The convention itself was just a five-day event, but the flight tickets were sponsored by the event organizers round trip and they were set for an eleven-day stay. Apparently, apart from the convention, some of the foreign attendees were also up for museum tours. Thomas supposed it made for more time for them to network.

Eleven days was too much time away from his kids, though. He was bent on just buying his own ticket home so he could go back immediately after. Or that was the plan until he relayed it to Patsy, and she insisted he "leave them alone" and "go take a vacation" because it was "only eleven days".

Thomas was an adult and didn't need to listen to some pre-teen telling him to fly across the globe just to get him away from them. But a vacation did sound tempting.

_ "We're not going to France with you." _

_ "But Patsy!" _

_ "We have school, dad." _

Which was how Thomas ended up dropping his kids off at Angelica Schuyler's, with a small notebook (note: it was a full binder) of instructions on taking care of his baby girls he had been writing and archiving since Patsy was 3. Angelica would pointedly not read it.

_ "We'll miss you, daddy!" _

_ "But not too much. So take your time, dad, okay? Don't buy an earlier ticket home." _

He'd miss his two little angels so much.

_ "Have a safe trip, Mr. Thomas! _

_ "Please come back soon. We like your mac and cheese better than papa's." _

His four..?

_ "But I don't want a goodbye kiss. Please, please, please just one mark?" _

Five.

His five little angels. Though the last one might've been more an imp than anything.

They were already at the departure lounge when said imp insisted he give Thomas a "goodbye hickey in the restroom, really quick", just to ensure Thomas wouldn't forget about him on his trip to France. As if Thomas, in eleven days, would somehow magically lose all memory of their ten months together — a year, if you counted the two months Alexander followed him around harassing him.

_ "And you couldn't have asked for this before we got out of the apartment?" _

_ "You were busy packing!" _

Of course, one goodbye hickey turned into two. Turned into three. Turned into rushing into a cubicle before anyone sees, turned into pressing Alexander against the door, slicking up with some lube the younger man somehow conveniently had in his pocket, and going at it as fast as they could before Thomas' boarding call.

Thomas boarded the plane with purple marks all over his neck (and collar and chest). He covered them up with a scarf when he got seated, mostly for the virtues of the nice old lady who was sat next to him, and sourly hoped Alexander had a hard time going home with cum leaking out of his ass.

Fucker probably got off on that, though.

One week and four days later, the marks have mostly faded and Thomas was home again.

As much as he would've loved to smother the kids with affection soon as he got home (partly to annoy them and partly because he really did miss them); chat with Angelica and shower her with praise to show her just how grateful he was; and maybe, after all that, when the kids have all been tucked in and Angelica off to drive back home, let Alexander mark him up again and then some... Thomas came home too tired for anything. The overdramatized reunion he imagined in his head was ruined by travel fatigue and jet lag.

It was Alexander who picked him up at the airport, obviously expecting to be tossed up and spun around like they do in movies, but Thomas could barely pull his own luggage and couldn't be trusted to do as much. Alexander informed him that his kids were still at Angelica's, but they were to be home by evening. Eliza was apparently coming over to bring little Angie and Philip to sleep over for the night, too. Until then Thomas could have as much as sleep he could in the child-free, thus silent, apartment.

By the time they reached the bedroom Thomas was already half asleep, barely getting out of his clothes before tossing himself onto the bed over the sheets. He had never slept more soundly.

At least until his rude awakening.

Alexander stirred behind him again, jostling the length nestled deep inside him and accidentally pressing it against his prostate. Thomas' voice broke on a moan.

"Can I?" his boyfriend asked. The question sounded more like a child asking for a cookie after already having taken a bite, but then Alexander was mouthing at Thomas' neck, pressing wet kisses, and who was Thomas to say no to that?

_ Fucking incubus. _

"Did you... my god _ , _ did you prep me?"

"Mm, opened you up with my fingers. And you just slept through it."

_ Fuck. _ He found himself nodding, body growing hot and cock working up to full mast. "Fuck, Alex," he gasped, "fuck me."

Alexander pulled out at that, leaving Thomas feeling empty. The other man just ran his hands over Thomas' thighs, shushing his whines.

Before Thomas knew what was going on, he was rolled onto his stomach with his face pressed into a pillow. This was  _ not _ how Thomas wanted it. He tried to writhe away from Alexander, grunting as he attempted to push himself up from the mattress to tell his boyfriend that, because it's been a damn week since they last saw each other — he deserved to get fucked like royalty tonight.

Alexander had him pinned though, still shushing Thomas, hands a gentle caress on his hips. "The kids are asleep," he explained. "Can't have you being loud and waking them up."

And that pissed Thomas off, it really did. He wanted to tell Alexander to forget about it, he didn't want to fuck anymore; but then Alexander's hand was on the back of his neck, holding him down and thrusting into him with one fluid push that had Thomas' breath punching out of his lungs in surprise.

He bit into his pillow to keep from keening. Maybe Alexander had a point here after all.

The fabric fell out of his mouth anyway when the other man pulled out and slammed back in, picking up in strength and pace. Thomas moaned a pathetic strangled sound, to which Alexander responded by pressing his face down further. It was useless; it didn't silence him at all and only made him sound like he was moaning into a pillow, which was exactly what was happening.

Alexander's cock ground against his prostate each time he fucked in and tugged at his rim at the stroke out, each drag sending electricity through his nerves and lighting him up from inside out. The feeling of being so full, all that girth opening him up, had Thomas' eyes rolling back and his hands clawing at the sheets. He canted his ass up to give his boyfriend better access.

The adjustment rewarded him greatly with more frequent hits to his sweet spot.

Thomas didn't even notice he was nearly screaming until Alexander pulled him up roughly by the hair, other hand clamping over his mouth to muffle his voice. The stinging pain on his scalp only served to make him make more noise, if anything.

"Fuck, babe," the shorter man grunted into Thomas' shoulder (as he could only reach up to there). "Can't keep going like this, too loud." He slowed down at that, pace becoming more teasing than pleasurable.

"Nonono," Thomas sobbed into Alexander's palm. He pried it off his mouth. "I'll be good, please more, I'll be quiet, Alex please..." He tried to move on his own to fuck himself on Alexander's cock, but the slighter male held him still against him, his length just a steady pressure inside Thomas and not a bit more. "Alex, please!"

Alexander hummed, as if in thought. "I don't know, babe. I mean," he rubbed at Thomas' shoulder gently, "the kids' rooms are way across the apartment, but these walls aren't exactly sound proof."

Thomas' head cleared in an instant, all the muddiness from travel fatigue and from having just woken up disappearing as his brain finally caught up to Alex's earlier warning:

_ "The kids are asleep. Can't have you being loud and waking them up." _

There was no way they hadn't heard all that, absolutely no way. Little Angie was too light a sleeper and, while Polly can normally sleep through a large-scale natural calamity, it would've been a damn miracle if Thomas' screaming hadn't woken up even Mrs. Adams from two floors down. Thomas didn't even want to think about Philip. Or Patsy,  _ Christ _ .

Before Thomas could properly freak out (and with good reason) about possibly having given one 14-year-old, one 11-year-old and two 8-year-olds the lifelong trauma of  _ hearing their parents have sex _ , Alexander was laying him down on the bed, turning him on his back so he was facing his boyfriend. His mind went blank again when Alexander leaned down for a kiss.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they didn't hear anything," he assured Thomas when he pulled away. "We'll have to start being more careful, though." Alexander hooked Thomas' ankle over his shoulder, right hand coming down to bend the other leg into the taller man's chest, nearly folding Thomas in half. "You have to be really quiet; not even a peep or else we'll have to stop."

He crawled up a bit more to untie the scarf from his boyfriend's hair, setting the coily strands free, before planting his left hand down firmly beside the other's face to prop himself up so that he had Thomas completely under him.

In any other position Thomas probably could've thrown Alexander off him reflexively if the stimulation got too much. But like this he had no leverage with the way his legs were positioned, his torso pinned down by his own weight. With the leverage Alexander had though, he could put his whole weight into his thrusts.

And so he did.

Alexander picked back up with no preamble, too rough, too fast. Too deep. He was merciless, not giving the other man a chance to adjust at all. Just how Thomas liked it.

He knew he wasn't going to be able to walk tomorrow.

When Alexander hit his prostate again and kept going, a moan bubbled up Thomas' throat, his lips already parting to let it out before remembering his promise to be quiet and choking it down with a gasp instead. But Alexander didn't let up with his repeated assault to Thomas' sweet spot, and there was not much Thomas could do about it but claw at Alexander's back, the occasional gasp turning into helpless pants.

He wanted—no, he  _ needed _ —Alexander to help shut him up. With a hand over his mouth or some cloth gagging him or lips on his own, hell,  _ anything _ . He wanted to ask Alexander for help, but that would mean having to work his vocal chords and Thomas wasn't sure they were very trustworthy right now. If he'd tried he might've screamed and screaming meant Alexander would have to stop and he didn't want Alexander to stop. Tears burned in his eyes at the effort.

Alexander seemed to enjoy his struggle and only went rougher. Despite the pleasure nearly bordering on pain, Thomas found himself cresting higher, a familiar pressure building up low in his gut, white hot in his nerves. When the other man rolled a thumb over his nipple and  _ pinched _ Thomas finally broke, head lolling back to whine and moan, baring his throat—

"—like a bitch," Alexander teased breathlessly, leaning down to suck and nip marks into Thomas' neck, exposed in invitation. He reached down to wrap his hand around the Thomas' cock, jerking in time with his thrusts.

"Hahh—fuck Al-Alex, too much too muhh... so close," Thomas sobbed, hands tearing at the bedsheets. His body locked up when Alexander bit down on the juncture of his neck.

The pain was what tipped Thomas off the edge. He came with a cry, spilling into Alexander's still-moving hand, quivering all the way.

Ragged breaths followed as Alexander kept pounding even as Thomas came down from his peak with the other's teeth still sunk into his skin. It wasn't really sex anymore — just Alexander bouncing Thomas on his cock, using his hole to get off. Thomas twitched weakly, a bit aroused at that thought but having had enough. His body stung with overstimulation, but he was too tired to care.

He blacked out shortly after, just as Alexander's hips stuttered and stilled, cock throbbing inside him and filling him with cum.

Thomas Jefferson woke up again some time at noon to the smell of eggs and bacon, a chaste kiss to his lips and, when he opened his eyes, a pounding in his head. There were sounds of ceramics and glass clinking against each other as he blinked for a few seconds, willing his eyes to focus until he could finally see the blur of Alexander moving stuff around near their bed.

"Oh." Alexander finally noticed Thomas was awake and moved to hand him his glasses. "Good morning, sleeping beauty." He leaned down to press a few chaste kisses to Thomas' forehead and cheeks and mouth. "How are you feeling?"

Thomas groaned in response as the ache in his joints from being bent and spread unnaturally made itself known. He shifted to ease them only to find a new  _ and worse _ pain.

"Fuck! Oh my—," Thomas exclaimed through grit teeth, hissing at the sharp pain shooting up from his ass to his spine, "oh my fucking God." He reached down between his legs to check the damage only to find his hole still swollen and fucked out. "You  _ ruined _ me!"

Alexander just laughed,  _ the asshole _ , setting the breakfast tray on the bed in front of Thomas. "We've done this before, you big baby. It'll go back to normal later." He sniffed at the other man, nose wrinkling adorably. "Though you should probably take a shower. I tried to clean you up as much as I could last night, but... you still smell like sex."

"Can't walk. Think you rearranged my guts."

"I'll draw you a bath and help you over to the bathroom," he leaned in again to kiss the pout off his boyfriend's lips. "How does that sound?"

Thomas whined. "Carry me."

"I could try. But you're larger and heavier than me, so it would take some huffing and puffing," Alexander joked. "And I'd really rather we get you all cleaned up before the kids come over."

Wait.

Eyes shooting wide open, Thomas shot up from the bed despite his body's protest, knocking into the breakfast tray and sending orange juice spilling everywhere. "Oh. My. God, Alexander—," he shrieked, grabbing Alexander by the shoulders. "THE KIDS!"

Alexander looked equally panicked. "What, what happened!?"

"They heard us... oh my god they fucking heard us—they heard us  _ fucking _ ! Did they? Fuck, what did you tell them, how do we explain..." Thomas felt close to crying, already imagining a life without his girls, as he would have to give them both up to Angelica permanently because there was no way he was ever facing them again after—

"Oh." Alexander just breathed out, biting back a smile. "That."

Thomas froze, tightening his grip on Alexander's shoulders in realization. He narrowed his eyes at the slighter male, baring his teeth in a sardonic smile. "Alexander. Did the kids sleep here last night?"

"They actually slept over at Angelica's," Alexander explained, batting his eyelashes innocently. "You know, so you could rest for a while without any disturbance."

Thomas figured as much. "Mhmmm. Then why, pray tell, did you trick me into thinking they were here?"

"Well, you see..." The younger man's grin widened, turning impish.

Thomas knew wasn't going to like this.

"You get tense when you try to be quiet. All tight around my—"

On Thomas Jefferson's second night home from France, Alexander Hamilton found himself sleeping on the couch.

**Author's Note:**

>  **IMPORTANT EDIT (21/02/21):** As of today, I've changed a few details (dates and ages) mentioned in this fic. Inspiration came and I've drafted a fic on how these two met, so now I feel like they should've been together for longer here.


End file.
